


Shake It Off

by BFab



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Allison, Alive Boyd, Alive Erica, Best Friends in Love, Dancing, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Stiles Has Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 17:59:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2859875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BFab/pseuds/BFab
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Claudia used to dance with Stiles all the time. "You're not going to help yourself by trying to force your mind into a space it doesn't fit in. Let's dance it out."</p><p>Sometimes the only thing that can calm Stiles' frantic mind is a dance party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shake It Off

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [FutureMrsWatson](http://archiveofourown.org/users/FutureMrsWatson) for beta-ing!
> 
> Inspired by the various gifs of Dylan O'Brien or Tyler Posey dancing and then brought together in my brain listening to Stolen Dance by Milky Chance. Title is, of course, from TSwift.

Claudia used to dance with Stiles all the time. Her sweet, eager young boy with boundless energy who couldn't sit still through dinner and who she got frequent calls from the school about. "He's not a bad kid, Mrs. Stilinski," she heard from the teacher, "he's bright and smart as a whip, but his fidgeting is distracting to him and to the rest of the class." They tried yarn, Stiles working over endless games of cat's cradle at his desk, but too often Scott would join in on the game, so they had to take that away. They tried rubber bands, but they'd slip and fly across the room, or make a loud snapping noise, and that got too disruptive also. Play-doh got too messy, small bits scattered around his desk. They tried letting him chew gum in class but that only lasted a day because he couldn't stop blowing bubbles, popping them with a loud crack. Everything that Claudia and Stiles' teachers could think of, they tried, and none of it worked to help him stop fidgeting and stay focused. 

One evening Claudia was preparing dinner while Stiles sat at the kitchen table trying to do homework. His knee was bouncing furiously and he held his head in his hands. Claudia put dinner in the oven, set the timer, and turned to ask Stiles what was giving him trouble. "I know this, Mom," he said, mashing the heels of his hands into his eyes, "this is so easy and I know it but I can't just think on it for five seconds to figure it out." He dropped his hands and looked up at his mom with eyes filling up, on the verge of tears. Claudia put her hand on his cheek and smiled at him with his sweet brown eyes and round boyish face. She took his pencil out of his hand, set it on the table, and held up a finger to him, indicating that he should wait. 

She turned to the small stereo that lived on the kitchen counter and flipped it on, fiddling with the knobs until a silly, upbeat pop tune filled the kitchen. She smiled at her son and pulled him out of his chair. "Dance with me, honey," she said, "you're not going to help yourself by trying to force your mind into a space it doesn't fit in. Let's dance it out." 

Mother and son bounced and spun around the kitchen for almost an hour before they were interrupted by the oven timer, announcing that dinner was ready. Stiles collapsed into his chair at the table; his face was flushed and he was laughing and relaxed. He went to pick up his school book to put it away and make room on the table for dinner, but the problem he had been stuck on earlier caught his eye. "Oh! Duh!" He exclaimed, shaking his head at the now-obvious answer and leaning forward, pencil in hand. He finished his worksheet in under ten minutes and dinner was still warm when they ate. Stiles was ravenous, as growing boys are, and Claudia watched him scoop his third helping of casserole onto his plate with a small, relieved smile on her face. 

They fell into a routine at the Stilinski home; dance party before homework always resulted in less time on homework and more correct answers. Stiles' grades improved, his  
teacher was thrilled with his behavior at school, and he was happier and more relaxed overall. Soon, Scott was included in the dancing when he spent the night over weekends and he would laugh and sing along if his asthma prevented him from actually dancing. Sometimes, Stiles and Claudia could even get the sheriff up and dancing after a stressful day at work. 

When Claudia passed, the sheriff stopped dancing.

~~~

After his mom died Stiles started having trouble in school again, and panic attacks on top of it. Scott held him together, barely, by being a best friend, the brother he needed, and by helping him dance it out when he needed it. They’d spend Friday nights in Stiles’ room with the music cranked up and their arms flailing wildly (well, Stiles was doing most of the flailing, Scott had a little rhythm) until they collapsed in a heap of exhaustion on Stiles’ bed and watched a movie until they fell asleep. The sheriff would find them in the morning sprawled out, Stiles usually on the floor somehow, Scott on the bed with his face buried in Stiles’ pillow, and the blankets knotted around Stiles’ feet, wherever they happened to end up. 

As they got older, they danced it out less. Not on purpose, it was just a side effect of growing up. They had other things on their minds, they used video games to let off steam, they started playing sports that neither of them were good at but made them feel more included with their classmates. Stiles found ways to mostly manage himself at school and their lives calmed down.

Then high school happened. Scott got bitten, supernaturals were after them constantly, they had a pack now and all these people depending on them for safety and survival, it was a lot for both of them to handle. They were clinging to each other but still pulled in different directions with their own secrets to keep. 

~~~

One night they were all in Derek’s loft, discussing the latest threat to Beacon Hills. Stiles was clearly agitated, more so than usual, his knee bouncing and his hands wringing together between his knees. His eyes darted around the loft, head turning here and there, looking for answers in the air around everyone’s heads. Scott was trying to focus and come up with a plan but his eyes were drawn to Stiles, worried about his best friend. 

“We don’t have much to go on so far,” Lydia said, flipping her long, strawberry hair behind her shoulder to address the group, “just that we have police officers who are turning up seriously injured by apparent animal attacks, but they’re all similar injuries that happened in different parts of town, at different times of day, with no witnesses.”

“How is that first deputy doing?” Boyd asked quietly. Everyone looked to Stiles for an answer.

Stiles shook his head and dropped it down into his hands, running his fingers through his short hair and pulling to the point where it had to be painful, “No, ah, he… He didn’t make it,” he managed in a shaky voice. 

Lydia continued in her businesslike tone, “We’re pretty sure it’s a supernatural creature, but the preliminary searches of the bestiary haven’t come up with anything to match. I’m going to continue working on translating some of the more obscure passages in the hopes that something will turn up with a connection.”

Derek nodded from his spot looming to the side of the couch with his arms crossed over his chest. “In the meantime let’s try and keep an eye on law enforcement in town,” he made eye contact with each of the werewolves in the room, “see if we can’t catch this thing before it hits its next target.”

At the word “target” everyone in the room with supernatural hearing turned to look at Stiles, whose heart rate had just rocketed from “faster than normal people so we don’t usually pay much attention” to something really worrisome. His hands were shaking and sweat started to bead along his hairline. He looked up with wide eyes and choked out “my dad…” before his breathing turned quick and shallow, his chest heaving as he struggled to gulp down enough oxygen. Scott dove towards Stiles, half sliding on his knees across the concrete floor and he ended up kneeling in front of him on the floor, taking both of his friend’s large hands in one of his own and willing Stiles to look at his eyes. 

 

“Stiles, buddy,” he said, trying to keep his voice level and placating while using his free hand to fumble in his pocket for his phone, “hey, we’re gonna keep an eye on your dad, ok? I’ll shadow him myself. Nothing will get near him, I promise.” He got his phone opened to his music and turned the volume all the way up before setting it on the arm of the couch next to Stiles. “Ok, up we go,” he said, standing and pulling Stiles off the couch by his hands.

Stiles moved numbly, Scott’s words trickling through his wall of panic and helping oxygen get to his brain, but he felt his mind checking out. Scott grabbed his wrists and started moving his arms back and forth to the beat of the music as he pulled Stiles into the middle of the bare floor. Scott started twisting his hips, pushing and pulling at Stiles’ arms to get him moving, trying to connect him to his body and break him out of the panic in his brain. 

Allison caught on first and jumped out of her seat to move to Stiles’ side. She put her hands on his waist and started moving him along with Scott. She shot a look to Isaac who got the message and stood at his other side, not touching but crowding in and moving his shoulders to the music. Stiles’ heart rate was calming down, heading towards his normal, and he was taking deep, relieved breaths. He closed his eyes and dropped his head back, not dancing yet but letting Scott and Allison move him, feeling the panic leave as his muscles moved, working out the tight lock of panic. Isaac turned his puppy dog eyes to Erica and Boyd. Erica rolled her eyes and sighed, but stood up and pulled Boyd onto the floor to join the group. They were all crowded around Stiles, bumping his shoulder, running a hand across his back, surrounding him with _safety_ and _pack_. After a minute Allison pulled Lydia in by her hand and by then Stiles was moving on his own, rolling his shoulders and shuffling his feet. 

The group spread out as their movements sped up, getting wilder and looser. Stiles had a small smile on his face as the tension left him and he began flailing in earnest. Everyone had to move back to avoid being hit by a wayward limb, but they were all laughing and really getting into the music. The only person left was Derek, standing in the same exact spot, arms still crossed, grumpy face on. His eyes were bright and the corner of his mouth was twitching, trying to hold back a smile. Scott saw him and grinned, moving towards the stoic alpha. He put his arms above his head and bent his knees, twisting his hips as he moved towards Derek. Derek rolled his eyes and turned his head away, pointedly not looking at the dancing pack. Scott, not to be discouraged, turned around and shook his ass at Derek, backing up into his space. Derek finally cracked, huffing out a laugh and running a hand over his face. Everyone burst out into loud laughter, the sound ringing through the echoey loft as Scott pulled Derek into the middle of the group and everyone closed in around him.

They lost track of time dancing, the pack shifting and melting through the loft. At some point someone hooked Scott's phone up to Derek's surprisingly impressive sound system so the music filled the space. Everyone made a point to reach out and touch Stiles when they came near enough, but he was loose and relaxed and they were all having fun instead of worried and on alert. When the thumping beat of "Wobble" came on a cheer ran through the pack as they got ready to do the dance together. Erica stood with Derek and Boyd to show them the steps, Scott was asking Allison for help, Lydia and Isaac were showing off at the front, keeping up flawlessly. 

A little bit into the song, everyone finally getting the hang of the steps, they all smiled around at each other, and suddenly froze. There was Stiles, on his own off to the side, executing a deliciously smooth body roll with the song, so unlike the uncoordinated flailing they'd seen from him so far. It took Stiles a few seconds to realize he was the only one dancing and he straightened up, a blush creeping up high on his cheekbones and turning the tips of his ears pink. "Hey, is the dance party over?" He laughed nervously. "Ok, uh, this was fun guys, thanks for getting me out of my funk. I'm gonna go check on my dad now," he gave an awkward double thumbs up before he snatched his jacket and all but ran out the door. 

The rest of the pack stood speechless, some jaws were hanging open. "Holy shit, I didn't think Stilinski could move like that," Isaac finally said, staring at the door. 

"That was," Allison started before trailing off, apparently not finding an adequate word.

" _Hot_ ," Erica finished for her. She laughed brightly at the mock-glare the Boyd shot her. 

Scott didn’t say anything, just stared at the door with his mouth hanging open and the white noise of his blood pounding hot in his ears. He felt a blush of his own working its way up his neck and said "I should go check on him, keep an eye on the sheriff before Stiles tries to take on whatever this thing is on his own. You guys finish coordinating the rest of the plan?" He asked with a glance to Derek. After getting an answering nod Scott unplugged his phone, cutting off the music, and ducked out the door. Derek started assigning officers for each werewolf to look after, and Lydia and Allison left together to Allison's house to continue the research in the bestiary. 

~~~

A week and a half later, the creature had been found and killed and life went back to normal. Well, normal for them. The sheriff was glad that his son-turned-clingy-octopus was finally backing off and giving him room to breathe. He loved the kid but it was just weird to wake up to Stiles sitting in the chair in his room, watching him sleep, and he had been more in the way than usual at the station, at the sheriff’s elbow every time he turned around. When he finally felt comfortable giving his dad space, Stiles ended up sleeping for 18 hours straight, catching up on what he’d been missing for two weeks.

When Stiles woke in the early evening after his mini-hibernation the sheriff had gone to work and Scott was sitting at Stiles’ desk, hunching over his chemistry book. He turned towards the bed with a smile when he heard Stiles’ breathing change, waking up. “Hey buddy,” he said, eyes soft, “feeling better? I’m glad you finally got some rest, we were worried about you.”

Stiles sat up and rubbed his hands over his face, rolling his shoulders and stretching his long limbs to get his body closer to waking up. “Hey Scotty,” he said with a shy smile, “thanks for, uh, everything? I mean, helping out with my dad and keeping me from falling apart and all that. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“It was the pack,” Scott said with his eyes on the floor, “everyone was there.”  
“No,” Stiles cut in, softer, “it was you. You’re the one who got me to dance it out, and the one who kept everyone together and kept everyone safe. Kept my dad safe. You’re the one here now,” he trailed off, amber eyes open and earnest.

Scott huffed a small laugh, feeling self conscious at Stiles’ words, but he moved from the desk chair to sit on the edge of the bed where Stiles had drawn up his feet to make room. “I had forgotten about dancing it out,” he told Stiles with a smile, “that was a lot of fun. Good for the whole pack, I think. We should make that a regular thing again. But it looks like you’ve been practicing without me, nobody knew you had those moves!”

Stiles nodded along, then looked down to pick at nonexistant fuzz on his comforter. His neck and ears turned pink and Scott heard his heart rate kick up for a few beats. “You know,” Stiles started, a little louder than he had planned on talking, “when I was with Lydia and had a panic attack, she, uh…”

Scott leaned in when Stiles didn’t continue and put a hand on his knee, “What did she do? Did it work?”

Stiles was really blushing now, bright pink splotches blooming on his cheeks. “Yeah it did, actually, she, uh… she kissed me.”

Scott felt his eyebrows climb his forehead, “She did? Why didn’t you ever tell me? That’s pretty big news-”

“No, no,” Stiles cut in, “it wasn’t like that. I was like, really losing it and she had read something about holding your breath to stop a panic attack and that’s what she thought of. But it didn’t like, mean anything. Just between friends.”

Scott nodded, confused. He wasn’t really sure where Stiles was going with this. He realized he still had his hand on Stiles’ knee and he tensed up a bit, but didn’t want to move it to draw attention to the fact that it was there (that makes sense, right? Maybe. His brain wasn’t really full speed), so he left it there. “I’m glad she was able to help you,” he tried, “I hope everyone will be able to help now, maybe, without kissing? Unless you, uh, want that?” He was floundering. This wasn’t going well. 

“No, not from the whole pack,” Stiles laughed, “but, I mean, if there’s not like, a stereo handy or… we’re being hunted and need to be quiet for some reason, I thought you should know. So you could, uh, know about that. That other option. To use, at some point. In the future. Probably. Or not? But I mean, it’s an option. For you. And me. For… us.” He felt his hands moving and twisting in the air between them, but they didn’t want to seem to listen to him and just stay still.

During Stiles’ rant, a smile had been growing on Scott’s face. “Stiles,” he said, stopping the flow of words and halting the flailing movements, “you seem pretty worked up. Do you think we should try that other method? Just to see if it works.”

Stiles’ eyes went wide, “Other method? You mean,” one of his hands with their ridiculously long fingers pointed back and forth between them, between their mouths, specifically, and his lips pursed a little without his realizing it. When Scott just smiled his sunshine smile and nodded, things seemed to click, “YES! Oh my god, I mean, I am totally on board with that and if you’re cool with it, but you don’t have to, I mean-” 

His next round of rambling was cut off by Scott’s mouth on his, warm and sweet. It had the desired effect; Stiles’ whole brain slowed down, the constant stream of noise quieted, and distractions fell away until it was only him and Scott. A hand on his knee, their lips together. It wasn’t rushed or frantic but easy and natural, like their friendship. They stayed like that for a while, sharing breath with lips moving against each other until they were interrupted by an obnoxiously loud growl from Stiles’ stomach. 

They broke apart laughing, and Scott clapped a hand to Stiles’ shoulder. “Let’s go downstairs and order a pizza. Your dad left some cash in the kitchen.” His hand moved to brush against Stiles’ cheek for a moment and then he was standing up and heading towards the door and down the stairs. Stiles took a couple minutes to himself before following him downstairs. He used the bathroom, splashed some water on his face, and couldn’t be bothered to even try wiping the dopey smile off his face. 

They ate their pizza on the couch with Netflix on, thighs pressed together from hip to knee. They were comfortable with each other, like they’d always been, but now they shared a smile every time their eyes met, and their movie watching was interrupted by a small press of lips to the corner of a mouth, a nose brushed against a shoulder, and by the time the credits were playing Scott had settled down against Stiles’ shoulder and fallen asleep.


End file.
